The Writer's Voice
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by
John Roubal
You see him walking down the road,
that poor and lonely, dirty soul.
He has no children, lover, or friend,
but still you see him walk the road.
The road of heartache, pain, and death.
The road of virtue, moral, and success.
You know the soul I'm speaking of.
The one that lives in all of us.
The one we all try to hide.
To keep him bottled up inside.
He stands for something in everyone.
For me it's getting out of this place.
Hit the road to outer space.
Just leave with a big old smile on my face.
Never look back, to erase.
Erase the memories of the past,
the ones that crippled my heart.
Run away from a broken heart.
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